


One More Day

by maybeeatspaghetti



Series: Shameless Whizzvin Smut [19]
Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Angst, Coming Out, Dry Humping, Hand Jobs, I'm a sucker for sweet anxious inexperienced Marvin, M/M, Marvin has a mental health crisis, Not as smutty as usual, OR IS IT, Platonic Bed Sharing, Sharing a Bed, Strangers to Lovers, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 05:27:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26846656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybeeatspaghetti/pseuds/maybeeatspaghetti
Summary: Whizzer meets Marvin the night Marvin decides to end his life.
Relationships: Whizzer Brown/Marvin
Series: Shameless Whizzvin Smut [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1850437
Comments: 13
Kudos: 63





	One More Day

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been bullied (in a friendly way, I promise) into making a tumblr blog and so I exist there now if anyone wants to come talk to me! maybeeatspaghetti.tumblr.com

After several days of flitting around each other, sending small glances and smiles and touches, Whizzer had finally worked up the nerve to ask the man at the bar for his number. He was getting tired of being alone, and he and this man had locked eyes across the bar for several weeks until they’d started talking several days ago, and so Whizzer had asked for his number. He was walking home, and had just crossed the bridge when he put his hand in his pocket and realized the slip of paper the man had written his number on was missing.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Whizzer said, and did an about-face to scour the bridge for the paper. He was looking forward to the possibility that he might not be single anymore; it had been a while since he’d been with anyone serious and as much as he loved a one-night stand every once in a while, he was missing sleeping next to someone every night.

He was halfway across the bridge, eyes trained on the ground, looking for a flash of white—but knowing deep down that if he had dropped it, the wind probably would have picked it up already—when he saw a faint movement in the corner of his eye. He glanced up and his blood ran cold. A man was standing on the edge, on the wrong side of the rail, staring down into the blackness that concealed the water below. He was dressed in dark clothes; Whizzer would never have seen him if he hadn’t moved. He didn’t think the man had seen him. He couldn’t just stand there and do nothing. He took a halting step toward the rail.

“Please don’t jump,” Whizzer said, heart pounding in his ears. The man’s head snapped around. His eyes were wide and fearful. Whizzer took another tentative step closer. “What’s your name?”

“Marvin.” He said it so quietly Whizzer barely caught it.

“Hi, Marvin. I’m Whizzer. Will you come back over the rail?”

Marvin shook his head. 

“Will you talk to me? Will you tell me what’s going through your head right now? Please?” He was trying to stall, trying to get Marvin to talk, trying to do anything that would keep him holding onto the rail.

“I…” Marvin looked away. “I just want it to be easy.”

“Want what to be easy?”

“Everything. Life is so hard sometimes. What’s the point in living when nobody cares?”

“I care.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“Then give me the chance. Please.”

Marvin met Whizzer’s eyes again.

“I want to get to know you,” Whizzer said. “I don’t want you to jump.”

Marvin’s eyes filled with tears and he looked away. For a moment, it looked as though he was going to let go, and Whizzer said desperately, “Please, Marvin. I’m here for you. If you can just get through tonight, tomorrow might be different. You might feel different. You might change your mind. Just give yourself one more day. Come back over, please. I’ll be here with you. I promise I’ll stay with you.”

“Why would you do this?”

“Because I care about you. I don’t even know you but I can tell you’re in pain and I want you to know there’s always another way out. Please believe me. Please come back over. Just give yourself one more day. Please. I promise I’ll stay with you.”

Marvin looked at him before carefully climbing over the rail. Whizzer almost cried in relief. He extended his hand. Marvin took it tentatively. Whizzer squeezed and started walking backwards. Marvin followed.

“Just keep looking at me and keep walking with me. I’m here with you. I’m not going to let you go.”

Whizzer kept up a stream of encouragements and reassurances the entire way, and when they finally made it off the bridge, his legs were shaking and his hand was trembling in Marvin’s grip. 

“Can I hug you?” he asked.

Marvin nodded and started to cry. Whizzer wrapped him up in his arms and held him as tightly as possible.

“Do you have somewhere I can take you? Is there someone I can call?”

Marvin shook his head frantically. “No, no. I can’t— I can’t go back.”

Whizzer desperately wanted to ask, “Back where?” but refrained. “Okay, okay. I hear you. Marvin, I really think I should take you to the hospital. They can help you better than I can.”

Marvin yanked himself out of Whizzer’s grip and backed away, stumbling as he did so. Whizzer tried to backtrack quickly, realizing the mention of the hospital must have terrified him. He’d gotten him off the bridge; he couldn’t lose him now. “I won’t take you to the hospital if you don’t want to go,” he rushed to say. “I won’t." 

“You said you wouldn’t leave me. People always say things they don’t mean.”

“Marvin, please come back. I mean it. I won’t leave you. I made a promise. I won’t leave you. Please, can you come back here? No hospitals. I won’t leave you at the hospital. I promise.”

Marvin stopped backing away. “I’m scared,” he whispered.

“Scared of what?”

Marvin started to cry again. 

“Can I come over there?” Whizzer asked. Marvin didn’t answer, so Whizzer stayed put, not wanting to frighten him into moving further away. He reached out his hand but didn’t move. “Please come back. I’ll stay with you. Do you want to come home with me?”

Marvin wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Marvin, I said I wouldn’t leave you. Do you want to come home with me?”

Marvin took a step forward and put his hand on top of Whizzer’s. 

“It’s just around the corner, okay?”

Marvin nodded. Whizzer laced his fingers with Marvin’s and led him down the street. Marvin was silent as they walked. Whizzer talked absentmindedly, never letting go of Marvin’s hand, trying to look at him every once in a while, hoping it would make him feel like he wasn’t an afterthought. 

They reached Whizzer’s apartment and Whizzer showed him inside. He hadn’t cleaned up in a while, so it was quite messy, but he didn’t think the cleanliness of his apartment was the first thing on Marvin’s mind. Whizzer left Marvin sitting on the couch and quickly went through each room, gathering anything up—razors, pill bottles, pocketknives—that might be dangerous should Marvin take a turn for the worse.

When he went back into the living room, Marvin was still sitting on the couch, but he was shivering now. 

“Do you want to take a shower? Warm up?”

Marvin nodded. Whizzer showed him the bathroom and gave him a towel and a change of clothes he’d had pulled from his own closet. He was about to give Marvin some privacy when Marvin touched his wrist and said, “I don’t want to be alone.”

“I’ll… sit facing away. I won’t look at you,” Whizzer said, a bit uncomfortable to be in the bathroom with Marvin while he showered.

“Thank you,” Marvin said quietly. 

There was a bit of a divider between the shower and rest of the bathroom and Whizzer sat with his back against that as the room filled with steam. He talked to Marvin every once in a while, just talking about nothing, telling him about some of the things in his apartment, asking him questions (which Marvin didn’t answer). He heard Marvin dry off and get dressed, and then Marvin put a hand on his shoulder to let him know he was done. Whizzer went with him to the kitchen.

“Do you want food?”

Marvin shook his head. “I’m not hungry.”

“How are you feeling?”

“I don’t want to feel like this anymore,” Marvin said, voice breaking. “I hate feeling like this. I’m tired of feeling like this. I should have— I should have let go.”

Marvin was crying, nearly hyperventilating now. Whizzer grabbed his shoulders and tried to steady him, trying to ground him.

“Marvin, Marvin, Marvin, listen to my voice, okay? Just get through tonight, okay? You can make it through the night, I promise. Tomorrow will be different.”

Marvin pushed forward and kissed him. Whizzer, taken completely off guard, took an involuntary step back. He gently pulled away.

“Marvin…”

“Please,” Marvin said, hands balled in Whizzer’s shirt. “Make me feel something, please.”

Whizzer took Marvin’s face in his hands. “You’re not in the right frame of mind, honey,” he said, tacking on the endearment to hopefully make the rejection less painful. Marvin was suffering and in a lot of emotional pain and Whizzer didn’t want to do anything to make it worse. He got the sense that there was a lot of self-loathing buried somewhere deep beneath Marvin’s exterior. He ran his thumbs over Marvin’s cheeks, trying to soothe him. “It’s not you, honey, I promise.” He pulled Marvin into a hug. “I really think you should try to get some sleep right now, okay? Do you want me to sleep in the room with you so you’re not alone?”

Marvin nodded. Whizzer showed him the guest room and made the bed for him while he watched. He asked Marvin’s opinion on everything—“Do you want white sheets or blue sheets?” and “How many pillows do you like?” and “Is two blankets enough?”—and while Marvin didn’t answer any of his questions, he hoped he was letting Marvin know that he mattered enough to be asked his wants, no matter how small. Whizzer was completely flying blind. He’d never had to help someone through a mental health crisis of any sort before, and he was sure it would be difficult when it was someone you knew, but with someone you didn’t know… he felt like it’d be so much harder. Marvin was a stranger. Whizzer had no idea what Marvin’s personality was like, what he liked and disliked, what his life had been like up to that point, and Whizzer was trying not to fuck anything up, if at all possible. He had a feeling that one misstep could be disastrous. 

Whizzer had gotten Marvin into the bed and was about to go hunt down the twin mattress pad he had somewhere in the apartment to put on the floor when Marvin asked him to stay and just sleep in the bed with him. Slightly reluctant, considering Marvin had kissed him earlier, he hesitated for a moment before figuring Marvin probably wouldn’t try anything again after Whizzer had pushed him away. “Let me go get changed. I won’t leave you very long.”

He threw on some sleep clothes, brushed his teeth, and went into the guest room with a couple pillows from his own bed. He climbed into bed next to Marvin and turned the light off. He heard Marvin shifting around on the bed and then felt the slightest brush of a hand on his shoulder before Marvin rolled to face the other way.

*

Whizzer woke with Marvin’s head on his shoulder. They weren’t touching anywhere else—Marvin’s body was angled away from him—but his head was resting against Whizzer’s shoulder. Whizzer gently moved out from under him and sat up. Marvin looked the most at peace that Whizzer had seen him over the past ten or so hours. He got up and went to the bathroom, and although he would have normally gone out to the kitchen to start his morning routine, he decided to go back to the room so Marvin wouldn’t wake up alone. 

He sat on the bed carefully, trying not to disturb him, and propped himself up against the headboard. He read his book for the next hour and a half while Marvin slept beside him, occasionally shifting around fitfully as he slept. When Marvin woke, he woke suddenly, as though startled out of a deep sleep, breathing heavily, hands trembling. When he saw Whizzer, he visibly relaxed.

“Hey, good morning,” Whizzer said, shooting him a small smile. 

“I thought— I thought maybe it was all a dream. Or I’d made you up while I was drowning.”

That was the most Marvin had spoken all at once since Whizzer met him. Whizzer held out his hand, palm down. “I’m real.” Marvin touched his arm. “How are you feeling?” Whizzer asked.

“I, um…” 

“You don’t have to be feeling better. It’s okay if you’re not.”

“I’m alive.”

“Yeah.” Whizzer’s lips quirked in a smile. “You are. I’m really glad.”

“I… don’t know if I am.”

Whizzer turned his palm up and Marvin took his hand tentatively. 

“One more day. You came back over the rail. Give yourself one more day, remember?”

Marvin nodded and was quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry for kissing you.”

“It’s okay. You were really emotional. It’s all right. Do you want breakfast?”

Marvin squeezed Whizzer’s hand and let go. He went to the bathroom and shut the door behind him. Whizzer felt a spark of fear that he’d left his razor on the sink, but then remembered he’d tucked it in his bedside table in his bedroom. While Marvin was in the bathroom, he dressed. He was leaning against the wall across from the bathroom, holding some clothes, when Marvin opened the door. He held them out. 

“I thought you might want a clean shirt, at least,” he said.

Marvin took the clothes from Whizzer. “Thank you.”

“Do you want me to wait here for you or should I go to the kitchen?”

“You can go to the kitchen.”

Marvin retreated back to the bathroom and Whizzer went to the kitchen. He was pulling ingredients out until he realized he should probably ask Marvin what he wanted. 

Marvin came shuffling into the kitchen a few minutes later. He’d put on all the clothes Whizzer had handed him, and they were obviously a bit too big for him, but he was clean and dry and hopefully warm. His skin had been so cold last night.

“Do you want pancakes or waffles?” Whizzer asked.

Marvin shrugged. “I don’t care.”

“I want you to pick. I like both. I want you to pick what you want.”

“Waffles.”

Whizzer turned toward the cabinets, smiling to himself. Finally, he’d actually gotten Marvin to answer a question and _choose_ what he wanted. Good. He invited Marvin to help him and Marvin did, but he was largely passive and just handed Whizzer things when he asked. They sat down to eat together and Marvin ate a little, but by and large just picked through his food. 

“What’s going through your head right now?” Whizzer asked softly. He was trying to refrain from asking what was wrong, because obviously something was very, very wrong—so wrong that Marvin had been hanging off a bridge last night—but he didn’t want to make Marvin feel like it was wrong for him to be feeling so badly. Whizzer had no idea whether that made any sense or whether it was the right thing to say to help someone like Marvin, but he was trying to do what he could.

“I hate playing the game.”

“What game?”

“The game. I have to play the game. And it’s always someone else’s game. It’s never my game. It’s never the game I want to play.”

“Then stop playing it.”

“I can’t. You don’t understand. I can’t.”

“Then change the rules.”

“They’re not my rules to change.”

“Then break the rules. Force the game to work in your favor.”

Marvin shook his head. “I can’t. I’m stuck. I can’t do anything. That’s why I…” He trailed off.

“There’s always another way out,” Whizzer said, recalling what he’d said last night. Having learned that Marvin responded positively to touch—to human contact, to affection—Whizzer held his hand out across the table, which Marvin took. Whizzer ran his thumb over Marvin’s knuckles and said quietly, “Can you tell me what the game is?” 

Marvin closed his eyes and shook his head.

“Okay. That’s okay,” Whizzer said. “Can you tell me when you started playing the game?” 

“A long time ago.”

“Okay. Can you tell me—?”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

“Yes, okay. Do you… Do you think you could eat a little more? You haven’t eaten anything since yesterday sometime.”

Marvin looked down at his food and sighed. He picked up his fork, but his hand was shaking and he lost his grip. It clattered to the table. That seemed to be a breaking point for him because he burst into tears. Whizzer pulled him from the chair and took him to the living room. They sat on the couch together, Marvin crying, Whizzer trying to reassure him it was all right, whatever “it” was.

For the rest of the day, Marvin didn’t volunteer any more information about what “the game” was or why he had been hanging off a bridge last night; he opened up a bit more about himself—he was an auditor who hated his job, he really enjoyed playing chess (Whizzer convinced Marvin to teach him how to play and was rewarded with a smile or two when he struggled to catch on), and he had an extensive knowledge of Formula One racing. Whizzer was really enjoying getting to see past his outer shell and even managed to coax a laugh out of him when he did a really bad Robert De Niro impression.

Marvin asked Whizzer to sleep in the bed with him again that night, and Whizzer did. He asked Marvin how he was feeling as he was getting into bed, and Marvin’s only response was “Warm,” which Whizzer decided to take as a positive sign. 

*

Marvin stayed for five days. They had been watching the evening news program every day until there was a story that mentioned a man’s death and Marvin had a panic attack. Whizzer had taken him to the bedroom and laid down with him, holding his hand and talking to him until he had calmed. They didn’t watch the news anymore after that. 

Whizzer realized when he was baking cookies one afternoon and Marvin was sitting at the table talking to him—Marvin was turning out to be quite the talker as he opened up more and more—that he was becoming very attached to this man. It felt as though they’d gotten really close really fast and Whizzer had gotten used to him being around. In some ways, Whizzer was looking forward to the day Marvin left—that meant he could have his apartment back and not have to stress himself out over Marvin’s mental health—but in other ways, Whizzer was dreading the day he would leave—perhaps it was selfish, but he really did like having Marvin around. And, if he was being perfectly honest, he was beginning to realize he really liked Marvin. Sleeping in the same bed—nonsexual as it was—had messed with Whizzer’s feelings in ways he hadn’t anticipated. Over the last several days, they’d grown closer, getting to know each other, learning about each other, and it was wreaking havoc on Whizzer’s emotions.

On the fifth day, after breakfast, Marvin helped Whizzer clean up and then asked, “Can I use your phone?”

“Of course. Use it as much as you want.”

Whizzer retreated to a room as far away from the phone as possible so as not to listen in on Marvin’s call. About twenty minutes later, there was a knock on the door. 

“Come in,” Whizzer said, and Marvin opened the door. He frowned. “I didn’t want to eavesdrop,” Whizzer said by way of explanation.

“I called my wife,” Marvin said, and _oh_. Whizzer wasn’t expecting that.

Whizzer wasn’t sure what to say, so he nodded. Marvin had kissed him the other night. Granted, he was distraught and in pain, so maybe it had just been a desperate need for an intimate connection to someone else. He hadn’t thought of the possibility that Marvin might be married.

“I’m going home,” Marvin said.

Whizzer stood. “Yeah. Okay.” He felt sick to his stomach. Here, he could keep tabs on Marvin, make sure he was doing all right, and he was afraid to let him out of his sight. Afraid of what might happen to him. What if he tried to jump again? What if he did? Whizzer wouldn’t be there to talk him down again. “Marvin—” He cut himself off. His eyes swam with tears. “If you’re struggling— If you start thinking you don’t want to be alive anymore, come here, don’t go to the bridge. Please come here. Please.”

Marvin nodded.

“And call me? Just, you know, once in a while. Let me know how you are?”

Marvin nodded, and for once, Marvin was reaching a hand out to comfort Whizzer instead of the other way around. Whizzer grasped his hand and Marvin pulled him into a hug. When Marvin pulled back a bit, he looked up at him. Whizzer thought irrationally for a moment that Marvin was going to kiss him, but Marvin stepped back, said goodbye, thanked him, and left.

*

For two weeks, Whizzer heard nothing from Marvin. Worried, he got on the phone and asked the operator if she could give him the phone numbers for people named Marvin in New York City. He gave up when she said there were a couple hundred people named Marvin and Whizzer didn’t have any other information. He should have asked Marvin for his last name. By the end of the second week, Whizzer was scared. He’d told Marvin to call him, at least, and Marvin had nodded, but he hadn’t called—not once. The third week, Whizzer was beginning to panic. He scoured the newspapers every day, scanning obituaries for anyone named Marvin, looking for any reports about suicides. He turned up nothing.

The doorbell rang Friday afternoon that third week, and Whizzer went to the door, half-expecting it to be the woman next door’s bridge partner who rang Whizzer’s doorbell about half the times she meant to ring her friend’s. Whizzer opened the door. 

“Hi, stranger.”

It was Marvin. Whizzer had never been so relieved to see someone’s face at his door.

“Marvin—” Whizzer opened the door wider and stepped back, and Marvin stepped in. As soon as the door closed behind them, Whizzer was grabbing at Marvin’s shoulders and pulling him around to face him. “Are you all right? I told you to come here instead of the bridge. Are you—?” 

“I wasn’t going to the bridge,” Marvin said. “I wanted to see you. Is that— Is that okay?”

Whizzer yanked Marvin into a fierce hug. “You can always come here. Whenever you want. I was so afraid something had happened to you. You didn’t call— I was so afraid.”

Marvin pulled away from the hug. “I lost your number.” 

Whizzer laughed, almost in hysterics, and squeezed his shoulders. “I am so glad you’re here.”

Marvin hugged him again, but this time he put his arms around Whizzer’s neck and it was such an intimate pose, Whizzer’s head tucked over his shoulder, that Whizzer began to wonder whether Marvin’s kiss that night was motivated by more than just a jumbled, frantic, emotional, desperate situation. 

Whizzer patted his back. “You all right?”

Marvin took a deep breath. “I think so. At the moment.”

“You’re not thinking of—?”

“Not really.”

“Not really? That means you are a bit?”

Marvin didn’t answer. He just shifted his head against Whizzer’s shoulder. Whizzer pulled back from Marvin’s hug and looked him in the eye. “Marvin. Is this why you came over?”

Marvin touched the back of Whizzer’s head briefly. “I don’t think I want to. Right now. But I thought about it. So I came over.”

“I’m glad you came here. You’re safe here. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Okay. Do you want to do something? Play chess? Eat? Have you eaten today?”

“Chess.”

Whizzer put his hand on Marvin’s shoulder and led him to the living room. They played chess for the next hour, Marvin giving Whizzer pointers and generously letting him make a move and then rethink it and change it. 

“How have you been doing these last few weeks?” Whizzer asked as Marvin was contemplating his next move.

“Alright.”

“What about… What about the game? How’s that going?”

“Same as always.”

They were both quiet for a moment. They both took a couple turns.

“Tell me if I’m out of line, but… does your wife know? About that night?”

Marvin glanced at him. “No. I’d told her I was going out of town for a few days. She wouldn’t have missed me for a while.”

Whizzer sighed quietly. So it had been planned. It wasn’t just the product of a moment of desperation and hopelessness; he had planned it out. Whizzer slid his hand across the table, palm up and open. Before, it had felt natural and comforting to offer his hand out to Marvin, but now, knowing that he was married to a woman, it felt a little awkward to offer affection, but he did it anyway. Marvin didn’t seem to find it awkward at all; he put his hand on top of Whizzer’s without hesitating, his fingertips grazing the inside of Whizzer’s wrist. Whizzer moved his chess pieces with his left hand from then on, and he lost graciously to Marvin, even after Marvin hinted three times that “you might want to reconsider your last move.”

The afternoon passed quickly, and it was about five when Whizzer asked if Marvin wanted to stay for dinner.

“Can I stay over?” Marvin asked. 

“Yeah, of course. What would you like me to make?”

“No, I meant— Can I stay the night?”

“Oh.” Whizzer’s feelings were all over the place. Since realizing that he really liked Marvin after spending five days with him in his apartment, sleeping in the same bed, and spending almost every waking moment in each other’s presence, the thought of Marvin staying over was making his emotions go haywire. 

“I… Sorry I asked. I know we don’t really know each other.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Whizzer said, making a snap decision. He didn’t want Marvin to feel like he wasn’t welcome, and he did want to spend more time with him. “You can stay. I want you to, really. You’re not really a stranger anymore. To me, at least.”

“Are you sure?”

Whizzer brushed his fingers over his shoulder. “Yes. You can stay the night whenever you like.”

“Thank you. I’ll help you make food.”

Whizzer watched Marvin go to the kitchen, wondering why Marvin wanted to stay over. Obviously, he was struggling, and since Whizzer had coaxed him off the bridge that night and helped him, it made sense that he would come back. And Whizzer had told him to come visit if he was having suicidal thoughts again. He was curious to know why Marvin wanted to sleep there and why he didn’t want to go home, but he wouldn’t ask, and he didn’t expect Marvin to tell him.

They ended up sharing a bed again that night, and again and again every time Marvin came to sleep over. Over the next few months, Marvin came over pretty regularly, usually in the afternoons or early evenings after he got off work, and he would stay for dinner and invariably ask if he could spend the night. It was always strictly platonic. They always stayed on opposite sides of the bed and never touched (except that one time Whizzer woke to find Marvin curled up against him, his head touching his shoulder and his knees against his thighs), but Whizzer found himself wondering if sleeping in the same bed was just creating an attachment between them that had romantic undercurrents. Well… it was for Whizzer. He was feeling more and more drawn to Marvin the more they spent time together. 

He had no idea about Marvin’s feelings. Yes, Marvin had kissed him after Whizzer coaxed him off the bridge, and yes, Marvin was affectionate and liked to hold hands and hugged a little too tightly and held on a little too long, but that didn’t mean anything. Marvin was married to a woman. It was very likely he’d kissed Whizzer because he needed to be close to someone after what he’d been through. And some people were more affectionate than others. It didn’t mean he was gay and closeted. It didn’t mean anything. It didn’t mean anything at all.

Sometimes, if Marvin was having a good day, they’d have a drink or two after dinner. Marvin was ten times more tactile when he was tipsy, and he would often sink down on the couch next to Whizzer and put his head on his shoulder. Those were the evenings that Whizzer would have to be careful, because when they went to bed, Marvin would usually reach out to try to touch him. One or two times, Whizzer had fallen asleep with Marvin’s hand brushing his, but that was the extent of the touching in bed.

About six months into their friendship, Marvin had been visiting more and more frequently; two or three times a week now instead of once a week or once every week and a half. One afternoon, when Marvin showed up, he looked positively awful.

“I’m not— I’m having a bad day. I’m not doing well right now,” Marvin said. His hands were trembling. He fell forward onto Whizzer’s shoulder, which caught Whizzer off guard and he stumbled under Marvin’s weight but held him up.

“Marvin!” 

For a moment, Whizzer thought Marvin had collapsed, but he was still supporting himself; he had just fallen into Whizzer with the expectation that Whizzer would catch him. And Whizzer had.

“I need to tell you about the game.”

“Okay, okay, yes, yes, I’m listening.”

Marvin let go of Whizzer and took several steps away from him, fiddling with his hands, clearly uncomfortable.

“The game… The game I keep talking about is that…” He looked at Whizzer and glanced away quickly. “I think I like men. Actually, I know I do. And I’ve been trying to be ‘normal’ my whole life, and all this time I’ve kept thinking that if I play along long enough, I could— I’d be allowed— I’ll finally be able to give in to what I’ve always wanted. And so much of my life has gone by and I have a wife and a kid and the reason I was out there that night was because I’m stuck. I’m stuck in a life I don’t—can’t—love and the only reason I went with you off the bridge was because… When I kissed you that night, I didn’t think you were real. I thought my brain was imagining you, giving me the chance to kiss someone I wanted just once. And then I woke up and I was still alive and you were still there, and I couldn’t believe you were real.”

“Marvin—” Whizzer felt like crying. Marvin had been in, and still was, in so much pain because he was gay in a world that didn’t have room for him; he was in so much pain that he had tried to end himself, end his existence, just to make it easier.

“And then I realized that I’d kissed you and you pushed me away and everything I was always afraid of was coming true—nobody wants me, nobody’s ever wanted me—and I keep coming to stay over because I really like you and staying over lets me imagine what my life with a man might have looked like, and I can pretend it’s real sometimes and it’s so hard—how could it ever be real—”

Marvin was just rambling incoherently now, a lifetime of self-loathing and suppression and low self-esteem spilling over.

“Marvin! Stop!” Whizzer cried. “I think about kissing you all the time,” he said more quietly, voice breaking, trying to convey just how important Marvin was to him, just how strongly he felt about him. “It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s that you’re married. It hurts, but I’d rather have you in my life as a friend than not have you in my life at all. Just know that, please.”

Marvin walked across the room and kissed him. Whizzer’s stomach dropped and he put his hands on Marvin’s waist, indulging for just a moment before pushing him off and taking his face firmly in his hands. It was like the night they met, when Marvin had begged him to make him feel something. 

“Marvin… Don’t do this…”

“You told me to break the rules of the game, make it benefit me. So I’m doing it. I’m breaking the rules.”

“I— I know I said that…”

“But you don’t mean it.”

“No, I do. I just didn’t know what the game was when you told me and didn’t think other people would be getting hurt if you broke the rules. I want to be with you—of course I do—but I won’t help you cheat on your wife. That’s not fair on anybody.”

Marvin pulled away from Whizzer and fled the apartment, the door slamming behind him. Whizzer paced around the apartment, distraught. Marvin was so emotionally vulnerable right now—what on earth was Whizzer doing, just making it worse for him?—and so sensitive and easily upset. Whizzer grabbed his jacket and bolted out the door. He sprinted to the bridge, terrified he’d find Marvin there. He walked up and down both sides of the bridge twice, but there was no one. Whizzer wandered around the area for several hours, scouring the darkness for any sign of Marvin, but he had disappeared. He was terrified he’d sent Marvin into a downward spiral—but he _had_ to lay down some boundaries between them. There was no telling what might happen if they ran after their emotions. Marvin was _married_. Whizzer couldn’t, in good conscience, encourage cheating.

When he got back to his apartment just after midnight, Marvin was sitting on the floor, head resting against the door, a bag on the floor next to him. Whizzer was relieved to see him, but worried about how his second rejection had gone over.

“I stopped playing the game,” Marvin said wearily. “I gave up.”

“What do you mean?” Whizzer said, afraid of what the words “I gave up” meant.

“I left my wife.” Marvin got to his feet. “I left my wife. For you. I have no idea what I’m doing. I just— Can you just _be_ with me?”

Whizzer didn’t answer, still trying to process what Marvin had just said. He’d left his wife for _him_? For _Whizzer_? Just like that? His heart sped up—he was terrified and exhilarated. He leaned around Marvin to open the door, trying to stay calm, but as soon as they were both over the threshold, Whizzer cupped a hand around the back of Marvin’s neck, thumb pressing into the soft spot behind his ear. It was achingly intimate.

“Marvin…”

“Just kiss me, _please_.”

Whizzer kissed him, hand threaded in his hair, arm around his waist, pulling him as close as possible. Marvin kissed back urgently, his hands pressing on Whizzer’s chest. Whizzer tugged on his hair and pressed his lips to Marvin’s exposed neck, mouthing up to his jaw. Marvin’s heart was hammering. Whizzer could feel Marvin’s pulse against his lips.

“I have no idea what to do,” Marvin breathed. His cheeks and lips were dark pink.

Whizzer sat on the couch and pulled Marvin beside him. He leaned in to kiss him again. 

“Just do what feels good,” he murmured against Marvin’s skin as he worked his way down his neck to his collarbones.

Marvin’s hands dipped beneath Whizzer’s shirt and Whizzer made a little noise of approval. Ten minutes later, they were both shirtless and panting, Marvin perched in Whizzer’s lap, his forehead pressed to Whizzer’s, his eyes squeezed shut. Whizzer had slipped his hand into Marvin’s pants and Marvin was making small, desperate noises as Whizzer worked him over. Whizzer could tell he was getting close when he started rocking his hips more frantically, almost desperate to finish.

“Come on,” Whizzer murmured. “Come on, come on, don’t hold back, come on.”

When Whizzer bent down and sucked at one of his nipples, Marvin let out a throaty moan, the rhythm of his hips faltered, and he came, head thrown back, eyes closed, mouth open. Whizzer stroked him through it. Marvin was shuddering in his grasp until he finally went still, head on Whizzer’s shoulder, breathing heavily.

“I want—” He paused to catch his breath. “I wanna make you feel good.”

“Just keep rocking, hon,” Whizzer said, putting his hands on Marvin’s hips, encouraging, and angling his own hips up slightly so that they were flush against each other. “That’ll do it.”

Marvin rocked against him until Whizzer came, gasping into Marvin’s shoulder. Marvin cradled his face and kissed him. 

“Marvin,” Whizzer murmured, speaking against Marvin’s lips and running his hands up and down his back. Whizzer’s body was still tingling. 

Now that Whizzer was clear-headed and his mind was not clouded by desire or fear or any number of those emotions that had just gripped them both, he was realizing—really realizing—that Marvin had said he just left his wife to be with Whizzer, that Marvin still had some serious issues he needed to work through, that they’d just surrendered to the heat-of-the-moment without talking about what any of it meant first.

Marvin was running his hands over every inch of Whizzer’s exposed skin, in a daze and almost as if he couldn’t believe he had Whizzer beneath him, in his hands. He seemed particularly enamored with Whizzer’s chest; he kept pressing his palms flat against it. Whizzer put his hand on top of Marvin’s. 

“Marvin.”

Marvin finally met Whizzer’s eyes. “Yeah?” he said softly, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

Whizzer brought his hand up to his lips and kissed the tips of his fingers. “We need to talk about this.”

Marvin put his head on Whizzer’s shoulder. “Can we talk tomorrow? I just want to go to sleep right now.”

“First thing tomorrow, then.”

“After breakfast.”

“Marvin…” Whizzer said, taking a deep breath. “You aren’t getting out of this. We need to talk.”

“Yeah. I know.”

Whizzer nodded. “Okay.” He pulled Marvin in for a hug. “Let’s go to bed.”

“Can I sleep with you?” Marvin asked, his voice muffled in Whizzer’s shoulder.

“I don’t think you need to ask that anymore,” Whizzer chuckled. “You’re officially welcome in my bed whenever you want.”

Marvin laughed and they climbed off each other and went to the bathroom. Once they were cleaned up and changed and in bed together, Marvin was hesitant. 

“I don’t know how to sleep with someone else,” he confessed quietly. “My wife and I always slept like what we’ve been doing—in the same bed but apart. I want to sleep _with_ you.”

“Turn on your side and face that way,” Whizzer said, and Marvin rolled over obediently.

Whizzer scooted up behind him and wrapped his arm around his waist and nuzzled over his shoulder. “Hi.”

Marvin turned his head to look at Whizzer. Whizzer kissed him.

“I don’t think I like this,” Marvin said slowly. “I don’t like facing away from you.”

Whizzer rolled onto his back. “You could just sleep on top of me. I wouldn’t mind.” He held his arm up and Marvin put his head on his shoulder and his arm around Whizzer’s waist. He put his leg over Whizzer at the last moment, as if having an internal debate over whether that was allowed before deciding it was. Whizzer rested his hand on Marvin’s back before reaching down and giving Marvin’s ass a couple pats. Marvin made a little surprised noise.

“That okay?”

Marvin made a noise of assent and tightened his arm around him. “Do that whenever you want.”

Whizzer huffed a quiet laugh. “Oh, I will. Don’t worry.”

“Whizzer, you know…” He paused. “You know, this is the first time in a long time I think I’ve been… happy. I’m glad…” He took a long, slow breath, a couple tears escaping. “I’m glad you were there, on the bridge, with me.” 

Whizzer tried to wipe Marvin’s tears away, but he was crying too, then, and just held him. “I am, too. I am so glad, Marvin.”

Whizzer knew they had a lot to work out, and he was going to suggest Marvin start seeing a therapist, but all that could be thought about and addressed tomorrow. Whizzer patted Marvin’s ass again and squeezed lightly and Marvin laughed and tried to cuddle closer. When Whizzer turned the light off, Marvin pressed a flurry of kisses to Whizzer’s neck.

“You didn’t just give me one more day,” Marvin whispered. “You gave me the rest of my life.”

A tear slipped out of Whizzer’s eye. Sweet, affectionate Marvin—he deserved so much. 

They fell asleep, intertwined, not knowing exactly where they were going, but knowing it would be together. Together. Such a wonderful word. Together.


End file.
